Carpe Omnia
by labellebeaucoup
Summary: *AU* A retelling of Cleopatra and Caesar à la Olitz and without the sad ending.
1. A Meeting, of Sorts

_**A/N – This story is loosely based on Cleopatra and Julius Caesar with plenty of changes to make it my own – and no where near as sad of an ending. I'll try to add a historical note at the end of chapters. Carpe Omnia – the title of this story, is Latin for 'Seize it All'. Days and months are written in their Latin names. Dies Lunae is Monday, Maius is May and Calends was the name given to the first of the month. While historians unanimously agree that Cleopatra was of Greek decent and had a fair complexion with dark hair and green eyes, Olivia in this story stays true to character and should be pictured as she is on the show – not as Cleopatra would have looked.**_

 _ **Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter One: A Meeting, of Sorts**_

 _ **Dies Lunae, Calends, Maius 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Alexandria, Egypt**_

"The king has placed guards on all entrances, Your Majesty. He has ordered that should you attempt to enter; you be executed on the spot." Huck stood before the seated queen, the night breeze fluttering the flaps of the tent. They had been forced to camp at the outskirts of the city for weeks now. Olivia had fled the palace the moment she had learned of her little brother's plans. Marcus was tenacious about his desire to rule Egypt alone – contrary to their dearly beloved father's last wishes.

"Because the Roman general has ordered a meeting between the three of us. Marcus believes that if he bars me from the palace, the Romans will decide in his favor." The queen tapped her long nails on the wooden arm of her chair, deep in thought. The Romans had intervened in the Egyptians' feud the moment Marcus had presented General Fitzgerald with the head of his former son-in-law and political rival, Pompey the Great. Rather than pleasing the general as the king had planed, Marcus had angered the most powerful man in the world. It wasn't long after that General Fitzgerald seized Alexandria, giving orders to the king and commanding the queen to return to the capital. Olivia had yet to answer his summons – in part because she feared her brother's response to her return.

"There has to be a way! The queen cannot ignore the Roman's summons." Olivia glanced at her slave, Abby. The fiery redhead had been her companion since childhood.

"Make no mistake, Abigail," Olivia straightened her shoulders, "I return for my throne – not because some Roman has _summoned_ me."

Sighing, Olivia retreated back into her thoughts. There were many secret passages that led into the palace and she was sure her brother knew of most of them. She could send a scout ahead – a loyal servant who could slip in and out of the passages to determine which ones were being guarded. Moments later, a young slave recommended by Huck was running toward the palace.

"Huck, I want you to take this coin and go to the market," the queen held a fat bag that jingled with her movements toward the large man, "Buy the most elaborate, beautiful rug you can find."

"As Your Majesty commands," Huck bowed, taking the coin purse from the queen's outstretched hand. Turning on his heel, he left the ten, not once questioning his queen's bizarre request. Olivia chewed nervously on her bottom lip – deep in thought once more. Her plan was a far-fetched one, but she believed that with Huck's help, she could make it work.

"Your Majesty," A young girl bowed, slowly approaching the queen. "Your dinner is ready." A servant behind the girl placed a plate of grilled fish and leeks before the queen. A bowl of figs sat on the table, next to a flagon of wine. Anything more lavish and it would draw unwanted attention. For them to camp so near the city, Olivia had to act more common than royal.

Olivia waited as the young girl tasted her food. She had employed a royal taster since she was a girl, herself, and the first attempts were made on her life, courtesy of her elder sister. Watching as the child backed away, unharmed, Olivia began to pick at her food – her mind drifting to her difficult past.

Chione – Olivia's older, cruel sister had never liked her. It was no secret that Olivia had been King Rowan's favorite daughter. Pharaoh had taken to calling her the 'Jewel of the Nile' at an early age. When the king had been forced into exile, Chione had taken his throne and made many attempts on Olivia's own life until she fled to Rome with their father. In Rome, she had first met Jake Ballard – the man who would later lead forced to regain the Egyptian throne for the king. There was rarely a moment that the young princess and captain did not argue. He had been Olivia's first kiss – grabbing the princess in a drunken fit. With any luck, General Fitzgerald would have left the drunk bastard in Rome.

"Your Grace." Abby's gentle probe brought Olivia out of her stupor and she tried not to look too shocked at the mess she had made of her meal. Shoving the plate away, she reached for her wine. She was too nervous to eat, anyway.

 _ **Hours Later**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria**_

"We've had no luck in finding the queen." Fitz nodded in the lieutenant's direction. He hadn't expected any less. The queen had fled, rightly so, fearing for her life. This was her country. She wouldn't be easy to find.

"You're dismissed." Fitz waved his hand and turned back to his maps. He and his generals had been poring over the pieces of parchment for hours. They had found no viable place for the queen to be hiding.

"Perhaps Marcus told the truth. Perhaps the queen is dead."

"The King's own advisor disagreed."

"Because he saw how furious Fitzgerald was when he presented Pompey's head."

"Enough." Fitz cast his gaze on his arguing generals. "The queen is alive."

"What makes you so sure?" Cato asked.

"If she were dead, they wouldn't be so eager to have us as guests. Marcus believes that I will help depose his sister."

"At this point, I believe it would be easier," Cassius muttered.

"Rome needs a united Egypt. Have you not heard the Egyptians in the streets? They brand Marcus a 'traitor' king and Olivia a goddess among mortals. Crowning Marcus would only create more strife." Resting his hands on the table, Fitz leaned forward to closely observe the map. A knock came moments later and the guards threw the door open to a sturdy, muscular man bearing a rug.

"Another gift from the king?" Cato rolled his eyes. Marcus's bid for Fitz's favor knew no bounds.

"A gift from the queen, my lord." The unnamed man kept his head bent as he addressed the generals. Fitz tilted his head – noting the constant glances the man gave to the carpet that he held cradled like a child. It was an odd way to carry a rug.

"How, exactly, did the queen manage to get a gift inside the palace walls without crossing my soldiers?"

"This is Her Majesty's palace."

"Indeed it is."

"Tell me: would it not be more comfortable to carry the rug over your shoulder?" Cassius implored, eyeing the man with suspicion.

"No, sir. It would be most uncomfortable."

"For you or the rug?" Fitz questioned as his generals moved their hands to their swords. For his part, Fitz remained reclined against the map table, having sensed no danger.

"Both." The ghost of a smile filtered across the man's lips as he gently laid the rolled rug on the floor. "The queen asks that you unroll her gift in private."

"Of course she did," Fitz smirked. "Cato. Cassius. You may go."

"But sir, what if this is a trick?" Cassius protested – his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

"What if the rug hides an assassin?" Cato agreed.

"There is no assassin hiding in that rug. Now go. I have an important meeting to attend." The other two generals eyed one another cautiously before retreating from the room. After the door had shut, the man made a move toward the rug.

"You may go. I will assist Her Majesty."

"How?"

"The queen performed a similar trick when she snuck aboard her father's ship on his way to greet me. Go. Get some food and drink. My men will see to your protection." The stout Greek bowed low, but stood resolute as he faced the general.

"Forgive me, my lord, but only the queen may dismiss me."

"Very well." Fitz moved toward the rug, grasping the end and yanking. The colorful fabric unrolled, revealing the beautiful, yet disoriented, queen. Bending, Fitz grabbed her by the elbow, helping her to her feet.

"Thank you, Huck," The queen's musical voice danced around the chamber, "You may take the general upon his offer, now."

"As you will, Your Majesty." Huck bowed lower than he had before as he backed out of the room. Olivia turned, leveling the tall Roman with her dark stare.

"We meet at last, general."

"So we do," Fitz turned, seating himself in his chair, "I feared you would not receive my summons."

"You believe I am here because you _summoned_ me?" Olivia shook her head, the gold in her hair glinting in the flames of the torches. "I am Queen of Egypt. I do not answer to mortal men."

"Then whom do you answer? You were forced from your own palace. Your gods appear to be silent."

"I am a god." Olivia glared indignantly at the man before her.

"I thought your family had discarded that notion after conquering Egypt." Fitz reclined comfortably in his seat, reaching for a goblet of dark wine.

"My father was more Egyptian than Greek and my mother _was_ Egyptian. A return to our roots was necessary."

"That is why your man bears the badge of the medjay?"

"The medjai existed to protect the true Pharaoh. My family's greatest mistake was discarding them."

"A wise move, gaining your countrymen's respect. Sit. Surely you are exhausted." Olivia's eyes flashed at the command and Fitz chuckled in earnest. The queen was feisty; he would give her that.

"Do not command me, general. This is my palace and you are but a guest." Still, Olivia seated herself before Fitz, her eyes flittering up and down his body – as if measuring him.

"It is your palace, yet you had to sneak in here like a common thief." Her steely gaze hardened at his words.

"You're here to end this dispute between my brother and I are you not?" Leaning back in her chair, she rested her arms on the armrests.

"Your father named Rome the executor of his will. I am here to ensure his wishes are carried out."

"My father did not see what a fool Marcus is. We cannot rule together. Egypt deserves better."

"Your brother comes to me asking me to depose you and here you are asking me to depose him." Fitz stroked his chin, deep in thought. If Olivia was uncomfortable or shocked by his bluntness, she did not show it.

"You cared for him." Olivia pulled Fitz from his reverie and he followed her gaze to the ring hanging from the chain at his neck. Pompey's ring. His son-in-law. The only connection he had left to his beloved Karen. Dead, now, by the order of King Marcus.

"He was a good man. He deserved a more honorable death."

"That he did. When we were children, Pompey was named our protector. It is disgraceful that Marcus murdered him when he came to us for protection."

"You knew Pompey?" Fitz absently played with the chain around his neck, the ruby of the silver ring glinting as it caught the torchlight.

"I had met him once. He was a good man. You will find the rest of his body ten miles to the west of the city walls – entombed and guarded by my men."

"How did you manage that feat?"

"My medjay has been hard at work."

"I will send soldiers tomorrow. Thank you."

"He deserves the burial rites of his countrymen." A silence fell between the two as Fitz stood, pacing the chamber while he fingered the ring around his neck. Olivia watched the general pace, measuring his form. He appeared strong and able –despite his age, and had the glint of wisdom only possessed by scholars in his eyes. Their silence was interrupted by a knock on the door and Cato's voice inquiring after the general. Excusing himself, Fitz left the room. Olivia could hear him giving orders outside the door and then the clanking sound of spears being crossed, bearing anyone from entering – or leaving.

As she waited for Fitz's return, Olivia plotted her next move. Their meeting had not gone as she had planned so far. He had intentionally tried to prove that they were on a level field – she was certain of it. No doubt, he was waiting for her to drop the 'goddess' persona now that she was not in public. Her beliefs ran deeper than that.

Fiddling with the rings in her ears, she contemplated her next move. Seduction had been her original intent – and it was still a viable option. But at this point, just how was she to carry out that plan without it appearing insincere? Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear Fitz reenter, jumping when he spoke.

"Are you ready to retire?"

"I will send for Huck so that we may go."

"There is no reason for you to leave the palace. I will send my guards with you to your chambers."

Slowly, Olivia shook her head at his words, knowing that now was the time to make her move. "I fear that would not be enough – even with your soldiers' skill. At the moment, my brother does not know that I am here. The instant I arrive in my chambers, Marcus will know I am in the palace and he will begin plotting against my life." Standing from her seat, Olivia backed toward the door, praying to the goddess that her words had worked.

"Then stay here for the night. In the morning, the three of us will meet." Moving toward the bed on the far wall, Fitz turned toward the pile of luggage and retrieved a bedroll.

"There is no need to sleep on the floor." Olivia moved toward the bed, removing the earrings from her ears as she did so. Fitz eyed her before shaking his head and moving to unroll the bedroll. Sighing, Olivia tried again:

"I wouldn't sleep on the floor. Assassins have been known to lose snakes and scorpions in bedchambers."

Fitz stared from the floor to the queen, visibly concentrating on his decision. Finally, he abandoned his efforts with the bedroll and moved toward the bed, removing his sword and scabbard in the process. Olivia narrowed her eyes as he turned toward the bed, slipping out of his sandals and pulling the linens back.

"You sleep in your armor?"

"For your safety, Your Majesty," Fitz smirked, settling into the soft mattress.

"You can relax, general. I don't bite." Olivia slid out of her own sandals, placing them near the bed.

"You only sting, eh young lady?" Fitz chuckled. Olivia shrugged coyly and, with one gently tug, allowed her gown to pool at her feet. She giggled at Fitz's hard stare and the gulp of air he took.

"I hope you don't mind," she stated, slipping under the linens and turning on her side to look at the man beside her.

"Do I have a choice?" He shook his head, choosing to remain atop the linens.

"You're the one with all the power here and yet it is you, not I, who acts afraid." She settled back into the soft pillows as Fitz focused on keeping his eyes on hers – the thin linens left little to be imagined.

"You are very enticing and I am married." She lowered her lids, choosing her next words carefully.

"Your third wife. A political marriage. Well, general, I promise more advantages than your wife has brought you." She pushed herself into a sitting position, allowing the linens to fall from her body and reveal her chest. A smile played on her lips as her eyes darted below the general's belt – his excitement showing.

"More advantages?" His voice was rough – husky with want.

"Do your wife's image grace a coin? I can offer you a throne – an heir." She scooted closer, placing her hand on his chest and moving her mouth near his ear. "What is a mighty general without a legacy?"

"You make an offer that is impossible to refuse." He turned his head, bringing a hand to grasp her jaw, holding her face still as his lips sought hers. His lips were hard against her soft mouth, demanding, and soon he had slipped his tongue into her warm, inviting mouth. Her hands slid down his well-formed abs to the end of his tunic. Caught up in the taste of her lips, he didn't notice her hand had slipped beneath the short material until he felt her gentle touch on his hardened member.

"You waste little time," he murmured against her lips as she began moving her hands – tugging on his sensitive flesh.

"I know what I want." She drew his bottom lip between her teeth, suckling. He chuckled at her comment, a low rumble in his chest, and finally pulled away from her. A pout graced her beautiful lips as he stood from the bed – if he refused her now, he would be the first. Instead of leaving, however, he undid the straps that held his armor together – allowing it to clank to the floor and leave him in the same glorious unclothed state as Olivia.

Olivia took the moment to observe him. He may be older – roughly fifty-two to her twenty-one years, but his body was still in fantastic shape. His abs, no doubt from hours of sword work, were well defined and his arms bulged with muscle. His manhood drew her gaze – none of her former lovers were close in comparison. Everything about him oozed power and it wasn't hard for her to see just why the Romans believed this particular general of theirs to be divine – a perfect match for a goddess.

"Is everything to Your Grace's liking?" Fitz laughed, drawing her attention to his playful smile and twinkling eyes.

"I suppose it will do," she smirked, sitting up on her knees and placing her hands on his shoulders. Tilting her head back, she allowed him to capture her lips once more. Her hands travelled down his back to find purchase on his firm ass. She moaned as he moved closer – his cock grazing her stomach. It had been so long since she was with a man. Marcus had had her last lover murdered – terrified that Olivia would produce an heir before he.

"Lay back," Fitz ordered, pulling away and chuckling at the stubborn glint in Olivia's eyes before she complied and rested against the pillows, watching Fitz with a careful eye. Fitz appeared to drink in the sight of her laying on the soft mattress before joining her, his mouth eagerly seeking her breasts. Her hands drifted to his surprisingly thick hair. He exhaled sharply in discomfort as she pulled on the dark curls – causing him to suckle harder. Her legs wrapped around his waist as his tongue circled her hardened nipples – his hand rolling her other hardened tip between his fingers. Rocking her hips against his, she tried to increase the friction – anything to ease the uncomfortable throbbing between her legs.

"How long has it been?" He questioned, finally giving in and positioning himself at her entrance.

"Many seasons," she moaned, rocking her hips as he surged forward inch by delicious inch. "I assume you do not …" The pleasure of feeling him buried to the hilt took her breath away.

"I do not frequent my wife's bedchambers," he admitted – taking her moment of surprise to pull back and surge forward. She cried out again and again as he repeated his motions – arching her back in pleasure. His lips sought hers as they both raced toward their completion.

After, Fitz rolled to his back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling – trying not to chuckle at the image of the Egyptian gods above him. Perhaps Hathor had approved and blessed them. Olivia yanked the linens over her body – her skin still humming from unbridled pleasure. Finally, after many moments, he turned to his side, watching the beautiful woman beside him.

"I suppose you expect me to agree to make you queen now."

"I am already queen." She rolled her eyes, turning on her side and reclining her head on her hand.

"Then you won't protest when, tomorrow, I call for the throne of Egypt to return as it was." He had to admire her tenaciousness as she quickly sat up, clutching the linens to her chest and staring at him with abject betrayal.

"Egypt cannot return to how it was."

"Egypt cannot stomach a woman as pharaoh. It has not happened."

"There are rumors of women ruling as pharaoh in ancient times. Sobekneferu. Hatshepsut. Even Nefernefruaten is rumored to have been Queen Nefertiti."

"Rumors, Olivia."

Shaking her head furiously, she began to speak, "But …"

"You must learn to be dominant while appearing to be complacent."

"I can't do that with Marcus. His advisors - "

"Will be handled and I promise he will not think to drive you from this palace once more."

"It seems you can be quite the politician, Fitzgerald." She appeared to visibly relax, leaning against the pillows once more.

"When it is necessary. Rest now, my queen." Her eyes slowly slid shut before she had time to reflect on his words.

 **The Next Morning**

"Is it true that my sister is in the palace?" Marcus demanded, stamping his foot like a spoiled child in front of the generals. Cassius and Cato shared an uncomfortable look – even they had heard rumors. Rumors that the queen had snuck into their general's bedchambers the night before. They did not know the truth.

"Not that we are aware," Cato answered, truthfully. Releasing a frustrated sound, Marcus shoved past the generals and toward Fitz's rooms.

"Your Majesty, you cannot –" Cassius began.

"This is my palace."

"Your Majesty – " The warning in Icarion's voice was too late. The king had already shoved the doors open. What he saw inside had him turning toward his trusted advisor with a look of fury on his face.

"Why is she here?" Marcus demanded of the naked Roman general before him, shielding the beauty that shared his bed from the prying eyes in the room.

"What are you doing here?" Fitz demanded, his blue eyes flashing. " _She_ was invited. _You_ ; however, were not."

"I am the king."

"By my authority and mine alone. Leave us. We will meet later. When I have sent for you." Rushing forward, the king's advisor ushered Marcus from the room. Cassius and Cato lagged behind.

"We will inform the guards not to allow Marcus entrance," Cato offered.

"Please do," Fitz swung his legs off the bed and looked for his tunic, pulling the short, red material up his body.

"Welcome back to Alexandria, Your Majesty." Cassius bowed before he and Cato left the room.

"I promise your brother will be nothing more than someone to sit on that damned throne and look pretty." Olivia watched as he began fidgeting with the straps of his armor and stood to help him. Silently, Olivia rejoiced at her brother's folly. While she and Fitz bantered, Marcus had gone too far with his attempts to command the general.

"I'll send ladies to attend –"

"I can dress myself."

"Very well," Fitz nodded. "My bedchambers are open to you. Marcus and I will be in the throne room in one hour's time. I will flip the sandglass as I leave."

"Is that an invitation?" Olivia asked, bending to retrieve her dress.

"Take it as you will, Your Majesty." With that, Fitz exited the room – leaving behind a confused Olivia. After last night, how could he act so formal? Shaking her head, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind and finished dressing.

An hour later, Olivia found herself entering the throne room to the sound of raised voices. Keeping to the shadows, she watched as her brother embarked on one of his famous temper tantrums – flailing his arms and shouting in the face of the cool tempered Roman general.

"You have proven again and again that you are not capable of ruling this country alone." Fitz's cold voice echoed throughout the large room.

"Icarion –"

"Your advisor was the one who led you down this erroneous path." Fitz relaxed against his chair.

"You cannot expect me to rule with Olivia. She'll murder me."

"It is your only choice, Marcus."

"There has to be another way – Icarion will find it." With that said, the king stormed from the room and Olivia finally revealed herself to Fitz.

"That went well," she commented, resting her hand on the back of the golden chair he resided in.

"About as I had envisioned it would." Fitz stood from his chair, his sword clanking against his armor. "Keep my guards with you at all times."

"Where are you going?" A quizzical look marred Olivia's features.

Fitz sighed, a steely look of determination crossing his face.

"To prepare for a war."

 _ **Historical Note: Pompey the Great was Julius Caesar's son-in-law and the two did embark on a civil war which caused the former to flee to Egypt – where he was assassinated by Cleopatra's brother, Ptolemy XIII. Cleopatra is believed to have snuck into her palace to meet Caesar while rolled inside a rug – very little exists of the last Pharaoh's reign and thus most of what we know is from the writings of Plutarch who wrote extensively of Cleopatra although he lived a couple centuries after she died. Historians debate if Nefertiti did indeed reign as Pharaoh after her husband's death although the other two queens are known to have ruled as Pharaohs.**_


	2. The Siege

_**A/N –**_ _ **Thank you all for the kind reviews. – Gabi xx**_

 _ **Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Two: The Siege**_

 _ **Dies Iovis, 27 Quintilis, 50 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Somewhere Along the Nile Delta**_

"They're retreating," Cato announced, roughly pulling his sword from the body before him.

"We press on. Icarion doesn't know to stop and will use Marcus as long as he can." Fitz sheathed his sword, barely glancing at the cut on his shoulder – one of the bastards had gotten close enough to graze him. A soldier moved forward, taking the general's shield as he headed toward the tent that had been hastily erected near the riverbank. Fitz scowled at the location. The last thing he needed to worry about was some damn crocodile or hippopotamus.

"Tell the men they are not to kill a crocodile unless there is no other way. The last thing we need is to anger the Egyptians by killing one of their _gods_." A young captain nodded at the general's orders and scurried off. Fitz flung the flaps of his tent to the side and entered. He headed directly toward the maps in the corner. They were surrounded by miles and miles of desert – he had no idea where Marcus, Icarion, and what little army they had left would retreat. His maps told him nothing. Trying not to smile, he retrieved the carefully rolled papyrus the queen had slipped into his baggage before he left. He hadn't unrolled the papyrus yet, although he had a strong suspicion of what secrets were contained within. Olivia had ridiculed him before he left over the poor state of his maps.

Carefully, he unrolled the papyrus, placing rocks on each end to prevent the scroll from curling back into itself. His mouth fell open in awe of the beautiful scene before him. Olivia had been right – her maps were superior. Every nook and crevice of the land was detailed in beautiful color. He traced his finger down the vibrant blue of the Nile, easily locating their camp.

"General," Cato greeted, entering the tent, a boy following with a bowl of water, a cloth, and some linens.

"What?" Fitz didn't tear his gaze from the maps. There were several places Marcus could be hiding. He would be sending scouts out the moment the sun began to set. If all went well, they would have a place and plans to attack with first light.

"Let him clean and dress your shoulder."

"There's nothing wrong with my shoulder." Fitz tried waving the young lad off as he placed the bowl of water near the map.

"Blood is running down your arm." Fitz sighed in exasperation, yanking his sleeve up his arm and exposing the gash on his shoulder.

"Cato, move that map before he gets water on it," Fitz barked, causing Cato to jump at once and carefully remove the papyrus. He eyed the map critically before turning to the general with a smirk:

"A gift from the queen?"

"Who knows this country and her secrets better than her own people?" Fitz winced as the soldiers dabbed at his shoulder with a wet cloth. Tearing strips of linen, the boy began wrapping the general's shoulder.

"If you're finished, you may go," Fitz ordered the lad as he finished wrapping the general's shoulder. The soldier nodded, bowing his way out of the tent.

"You are serious about the queen," Cato stated, replacing the map on the table.

"She has her uses." Cato was left to ponder his general's words as Fitz went to the tent's entrance, barking commands to form scouting groups. By the time Fitz returned to Cato's side, scouts having received their orders and preparing for their departure, Cato had had time to process what Fitz most likely meant by his statement.

"You intend to divorce your wife?"

"Not divorce, no. Her family would never forgive me." Fitz dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, sitting in a chair and reaching for his sword.

"What are your plans?" Cato inquired, his mind swirling with the possibilities as he watched Fitz study his sword.

"I have none as of yet. But tell me, Cato, would you not choose a queen – a woman who offers an empire and the means to procure it, over a woman who has proven incapable of producing an heir?" Cato nodded, imagining a crown upon his general's head and a united Roman and Egyptian empire that would have made even the mighty Alexander tremble. At that moment, Cato wondered if he should divulge the rumors that had been dogging the camp from Alexandria. Slowly, he shook his head – it was the queen's tale to tell.

 _ **Dies Lunae, 31 Quintilis, 50 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria**_

"Your Majesty, perhaps there may be some other food you may try?" Abby gently probed Olivia as she wiped sweat from the queen's brow. Olivia shook her head slowly – she hadn't been able to eat after first waking for a month now. Several rumors swirled around the court to explain the queen's loss of appetite. She let them believe she was anxious for the outcome of the war. She wasn't, of course. The Romans rarely lost and Roman armies under General Grant _never_ lost. She had no reason to worry. No, her loss of appetite was due to a reason that only a handful of rumors had touched and then quickly dismissed – after all, the queen's own handmaidens couldn't validate the rumor.

"You may go, Abby." Olivia brushed the warm cloth and the pale hand holding it away.

"Your Grace –"

I am fine, Abby. Go. See if any news had arrived from the Romans." The redhead bowed and slowly backed out of the room – watching Olivia for any hint of weakness. Once Abby had closed the door behind her, Olivia moved her hand to her stomach, smiling. She had always been thin, but the skin around her stomach had tightened further over the time since she had shared the general's bed and she knew her stomach was preparing to expand – to make room for its new occupant.

Placing her hands on the curved wood of the armrests, she pushed herself from the chair and walked across the stone floor to the balcony. She had long ago chosen this room for the view it offered of her beloved Alexandria. From here, she could hear the movements from the marketplace – the shouts of vendors and the clatter of cartwheels as they were pulled through the cobblestoned city. The slight breeze carried the briefest hint of the spices and perfumes that could be found down below. When she was younger, she had loved to dress _down_ and sneak to the market with Abby as her only companion. No one then had been able to recognize her. Not when she had been the third daughter and had stood so far from the throne. Before her sisters' betrayals.

Sighing, she rested her hands on the balcony and turned her gaze to the east – toward the Nile. Toward Fitz. She hadn't received a message from him or his inferiors since he left in pursuit of her brother. Every morning, she woke early to pray to Montu hoping that, even if the war god wasn't keen on blessing a Roman host, he would at least bless a host that fought for the queen, for Isis reborn. And, in case her prayers were falling on deaf ears, she also sought the blessings of Ares (perhaps her father's Greek god would be more willing to lend an ear) and Mars – surely _he_ would offer protection for the Roman army.

Drawing her gaze to the royal stables, she almost considered taking Bucephalus for a ride. She hadn't been on the beautiful white stallion in months – first, because she had been in exile and then because her mind had been preoccupied with the war. It wasn't fair to the high-spirited animal. His namesake had been in many battles and, no doubt, wouldn't have endured the indignity of being stabled for so long. As bad as she felt, she knew that she wouldn't be riding Bucephalus today or any time soon. The desire to keep riding until she ran into Fitz's camp was too strong. It was better to avoid the temptation.

"Your Majesty?" She turned around to find Abby standing in the doorway, a wax tablet in her hands. Olivia held a hand toward the other woman and took the tablet, turning her back to the doorway once more and allowing her gaze to linger east. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, ocean air, she untied the strings holding the wax tablet together and cracked it open. A smile played across her features as she read the hastily scrawled message. Someone had written it _for_ him and it was curt – few details were present. There was only enough information for her to know the bare minimum, but she was okay with that.

Closing the tablet, she held it close to her chest. The bright smile still lingered on her lips and her gaze was drawn once more to the east. She held her breath in anticipation. She knew she was foolish to hope to see a flutter of red topped by an Aquila so soon. It would be a week or longer before they returned. Before _he_ returned.

 _ **One Week Later**_

"Where is the queen?" Fitz demanded, entering the palace. He and his army had marched through the city walls an hour earlier to great applause. It was a reception he knew wasn't likely to repeat itself. Not many would cheer a foreign host waltzing into their city.

"She'll see you in the throne room soon." Fitz shook his head at the short man. He had just fought a war for her. He wasn't going to wait for her to decide when she was ready to see him. No. She didn't get that option. Holding his helm in place under his arm, he slung his cloak over his shoulder and stomped in direction of her rooms, ignoring the servant's pleas to stop.

Outside Olivia's rooms, Fitz nodded at the guards, _his_ guards. He'd left enough men behind to protect – not trusting the mercenaries she had hired to do such a thing. They stood to the side, pulling the heavy door open for their general. Fitz entered the cool room, placing his helmet on a low table. Various women flitted through the room with dresses and pieces of jewelry in their hands. They stopped in their tracks when Fitz cleared his throat, giving one single command:

"Go." The women shared a quick glance between each other before all turning toward the woman standing at the open doors of the balcony, the sun surrounding her in a circle of warmth. He took in the sight of her before him. She was stunning. Of course it helped that she hadn't dressed, yet. Slowly, she spun around and crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her perfect breasts from his view and frowning slightly.

"You heard the general." Her light, airy voice had the women scattering in all directions – quickly finding places to deposit whatever they held before hurrying from the room. He tried to keep his mouth closed as he eyed the woman before him. She was more beautiful than the last time he had seen her.

"I told them to tell you I would meet you in the throne room." Her icy voice drew him from the thoughts of her breathy moans and slender, toned legs wrapped around his waist. The anger in her voice was like a bucket of cold water and he found his own anger bubbling to the surface. She didn't get to talk to him like that. Not after he practically handed her, her throne on a silver platter.

"And I told them I wasn't waiting." He unfastened his cloak from his armor, tossing the purple cloth, made to compliment the gold of his ceremonial armor, toward the petite woman. She narrowed her eyes in his direction as she caught the scrap of cloth, holding it up for inspection.

"I'm not your servant. You can put this away yourself." She made to throw the cloak back at him, but was stopped by his curt voice:

"Use it. Cover yourself." Glaring at the man before her, she slowly wrapped the small piece of fabric around her body. He waited for her next onslaught of taunts. He found himself wondering how he could have missed her as much as he did while he was away. She was infuriating.

"It's a little late to be modest," she huffed, waltzing to a wooden wardrobe and slinging a door open. He sighed in frustration, annoyed that she had turned her back to him and seemed to be running from the conversation. In a few, quick strides he was behind her at the wardrobe, an arm on her elbow and spinning her around to face him.

"You are so damn infuriating," he ground between his teeth as he leaned down, placing his lips against hers in a hard, demanding kiss.

"Your message was vague. And you only sent one," she breathed when he finally pulled away from the kiss, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"You're mad at me because I didn't _write_ enough? I was fighting a war, Olivia." He looked at her in amazement, flustered at her words. She couldn't be serious, could she?

"What happened out there?" She titled her head back to stare into his blue eyes, curiosity shining in hers.

"We won." She scoffed at that, narrowing her eyes at him.

"And you wonder why I was upset." She was quiet for a moment, relaxing into his embrace. Leaning her head against his solid breastplate, she noted, "No one's mentioned Marcus."

Pulling from her embrace, Fitz headed for the small table that held a flagon of wine. Pouring himself a glass, he took a long sip before finally turning to face her once more. Taking a gulp of air, he began speaking:

"After we raided his camp, he and Icarion fled to a reed boat. When we pursued them, their boat overturned. Marcus's armor dragged him to the bottom of the Nile."

"He's dead?" The lack of emotion in Olivia's voice stunned even Fitz. Both had accused the other of attempting familicide, but Fitz had still expected some emotion to the discovery of her brother's death.

"I'm sor –"

"Now I suppose you'll want to marry me to Harrison and crown him king." The venom in her voice had him taking a step back. That was the last thing he had been thinking and part of his heart ached that it was the first thing she had thought.

"That's not –"

"You said it yourself, Fitz. You won't support a solo rule." Sighing, he placed his cup back on the table and moved toward her. Taking her hands in his, he intertwined their fingers before speaking:

"That was before Marcus made his choice. Before he started that war." Leaning her head back, Olivia felt tears pricking at her eyes. Damn her emotions. She hadn't been able to control them since he'd left.

"You would support me?"

"Wholly." Tears dripped down her cheeks, causing him to frown. This wasn't the self-confident woman he had met two months ago. She was a wreck of emotions. Moving a finger to her cheek, he brushed her tears aside, gently cupping her soft skin and forcing her to look him in the eye. The concern she saw there spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry. I can't seem to _stop_ crying anymore." He smiled at that admission and met her lips in a gentle kiss, assuming she was upset because she had missed him. Had worried about him. At some point during their kiss, she allowed his cloak to fall from her body and flutter to the floor. The feel of the cold steel of his armor caused goosebumps to appear on her skin and her nipples to harden in response. Moaning at the sensation, she moved her hands to the straps on his shoulders that held his armor in place.

"Allow me." He brushed her hands away, taking pity on her struggling form as she stretched to reach the straps to his armor. With deft hands, he undid the leather straps and allowed the heavy breastplate to clatter to the floor – revealing his chiseled abdomen. She smiled wickedly as she ran her fingers across his chest – brushing his nipples and causing a low grunt to escape his lips.

"Better?" He chuckled, gripping her hips and pulling her body flush against his.

"Better," she answered, her hands moving to his hair and pulling his head down to meet her lips in a searing kiss. He sighed as her tongue snaked into his mouth, dueling with his as he slowly led her to the large bed in the middle of her room. Laying her on the soft mattress, he kicked out of his own pants before joining her. She gasped at the feel of him – impossibly hard against her wet center. Without thinking, she spread her legs farther and began rocking her hips against him, coating him in her wetness.

"I missed you," he admitted, moving his mouth to her neck and placing warm, open-mouthed kisses down her throat to the swell of her breasts. Her response was unintelligible as he moved his mouth to the perfect, hardened tip of her left breast. Licking and suckling the sensitive flesh there, his hand traveled to her right breast, rolling the hardened tip between his fingers. With a mischievous grin on her face, she moved her hands between them, gripping his hard dick and positioning him at her entrance.

"Olivia," he groaned, his hot breath fanning across her pebbled tip, as she raised her hips, forcing him to slide into her inch by remarkably slow inch. He moved his mouth from her smooth skin with a loud pop as he angled his hips and pushed forward, meeting her thrusts.

"Faster," she commanded, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. Maneuvering himself so he could place his hands on either side of her head, he attempted to hold most his body weight off her as he set a bruising pace. With each thrust, her moans became louder until eventually with a final scream of his name, they both came – hard and fast.

As Fitz rolled to the side, he pulled her to him, allowing her to rest her head on his chest. She tilted her head as a low chuckle escaped his lips. "What's so funny?"

"When I first walked in here, I couldn't stop thinking about you like this. Then you opened your mouth and I wanted to strangle you. Now, here we are."

"Don't put all the blame on me. I wanted to strangle you, too." She snuggled further into his embrace, yawning. It didn't take much to make her tired, now, and their activities had certainly been more than she had been doing lately. She struggled to fight sleep, forcing her drooping eyelids to reopen every few seconds. Fitz smiled at the sight and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Go to sleep. We have plenty of time to talk before I leave." That statement was enough to force her eyes open. She jolted into a sitting position and looked down at him – a mixture of shock and anger displaying in her eyes as she clutched the bedding to her chest.

"Leave?" She hated the way her voice cracked on that word.

"I was sent here to resolve the dispute between you and Marcus, Olivia. I can't stay here forever. I do have to return home." He looked at her as if it were the most obvious answer in the world and in that moment, she hated him. Hated him for leaving. Hated herself for thinking that he could stay. Most of all, for the first time in her life, she hated who they _were_. She was used to getting what she wanted, but this time, she wouldn't.

"Go." She wrapped her bedding around her small frame and stood from the soft mattress. The happiness and relief she had felt at his return was fading.

"Olivia, I _will_ work on us, but there are things that must be attended to fir –"

"Just go." She kept her back turned to him as she headed toward the balcony. Not even the warm sun could take away the cold she felt in her heart.

"What you said that first night –" He tried again, but she shook her head.

"Were words. Words that got me here. That's _all_ they were." The steely tone of her voice did little to betray the tears that were falling from her eyes. Silently, she took large strides outside, resting a hand on the balcony railing as her sobs shook her body. She didn't turn to see him dressing himself or leaving the room. Resting a hand on her still flat abdomen, she turned her gaze to the city below her, wishing for the first time that she could be anywhere else.

 _ **Historical Note: Bucephalus was the name of Alexander the Great's horse. Cleopatra's half-brother, Ptolemy XIII did drown in the Nile as he attempted to flee Caesar's army – at least that is the story that has been written by Roman historians. Modern historians agree that Ptolemy XIII did likely drown in the Nile, but debate the circumstances of the event. At this point in history, Caesar did have Cleopatra, already pregnant with their child, marry her younger brother Ptolemy XIV (Harrison in this story, although I have decided to forego this route) and crown him as co-ruler.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Three:**_

 _ **Dies Mercurii, 15 Februarius, 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria, Egypt**_

"He's beautiful," Abby gushed over the tiny baby she held in her arms, kicking his legs as he stared at the setting sun with his wide, blue eyes. Olivia rested against the mattress that lay on the pavilion stone, her eyes drooping. She mustered a small smile in her son's direction and held her arms out.

"Let me see him." Abby moved toward the mattress and gently laid the small baby in the queen's arms, stepping back as Olivia raised the child to her breast, gently coaxing him to latch on. She smiled at the sight of his dark curls – the only part she could agree had come from her. He looked so much like his father that it was painful and only made her heart ache for Fitz.

"Would you like to return to the palace tonight?" Olivia slowly shook her head at Abby's question. She enjoyed being outside, away from the demands of the palace. Abby slowly covered Olivia and the baby with the thick, linen sheets. The salty smell of the sea drifted to Olivia on the gentle wind and she snuggled further into the soft mattress, holding the baby close to her chest.

"I'll ask the guards to keep watch around the pavilion."

"Just Huck, Abby." The other woman nodded at Olivia's statement and stepped from the pavilion for a few moments, returning with an armful of linens that she laid on the stone by the mattress.

"Huck is standing guard," Abby announced as she lowered herself onto the makeshift bed she had created. Her only response was a slight snore and she glanced up to notice that both Olivia and the baby had already fallen into a deep slumber.

Jake Ballard made his way through the crowded market. Covered in sweat, he continuously wiped his brow while cursing the heat. Fitz had warned him the heat in Egypt was stifling, but this was almost unbearable. The Egyptian at the inn had mentioned that it was one of their cooler seasons before handing him several extra linens for his bed. Needless to say, Jake hadn't used _any_ of them.

" 'ana 'asaf." Jake shook his head at the man who had just bumped into him. He wasn't sure what the man had said – it had sounded like an apology, but in the odd, clipped tone that many Egyptians spoke in. Squaring his shoulders, he shoved through the crowd. The smell of spices and fish mixed with the salty stench of the nearby sea had him holding his nose. He almost preferred the smell of the battlefield.

The warm sun beating down on his neck was turning the slightly tanned skin a bright shade of red. He could feel the warm stone through the leather of his sandals and quickened his pace. Fitz had sent him to Alexandria to keep an eye on the Egyptian queen. The general had been unusually tight-lipped about the reason for watching the queen. Jake had his suspicions – namely that Fitz believed Egypt was preparing to break their alliance with Rome. That suspicion caused the tall, handsome captain to be unquestionably cross with the civilians he encountered. He would have marched to Olivia, herself, and demanded to know her intent had he not been turned away at the palace gates.

His cheeks burned red at that memory. Upon first arriving, he had gone to the large, opulent structure at the heart of the city. Despite dropping Fitz's name at the gates, the soldiers had still denied him entrance and threatened physical harm if he attempted to enter once more. He spent the days after loitering around the palace walls – trying to catch a glimpse of the queen he had been sent to watch. In the months he had been in Alexandria, he had not glimpsed the queen once. It was an oddity that many Alexandrians had noted. Rumors swirled around the city to explain the queen's sudden disappearance with many theorizing that the Romans had taken her to Rome. That rumor always caused Jake to roll his eyes.

He had known Olivia, once. If he had to guess, she was drawing the rumors out. She wanted her citizens to grow to despise Rome. In his mind, she was sowing discord to prepare for war. It was exactly the kind of thing that Olivia would do. He remembered when they had first met. She had been a shy, quiet princess then. He had watched as she grew confident and took charge when her father, fool that he was, proved unable. There would have been no alliance between King Rowan and the Roman Empire if it hadn't been for Olivia. What little Jake remembered of Rowan he hadn't liked. The man had preferred to drown his troubles in wine and flute-playing rather than rule. It was only Olivia's knowledge of Latin that had stopped any outright insults directed toward her father while they had stayed at Fitz's summer villa.

Jake remembered that Olivia had not met Fitz then. The general had been adamant that it was not the young princess's place to take part in military negotiations. Jake smirked at that memory. Had Fitz allowed Olivia to take part in the negotiations, it wouldn't have taken the two years that it had. Instead, Jake had been charged with keeping the young girl entertained while she was in Rome and it didn't take him long to discover that she despised the gladiatorial matches. It wasn't until the princess had ran from the Colosseum, shaking and crying in anger, that he had learned her bodyguard, Huck, had been a gladiator. The princess had bought his freedom, saving him from that life, and in turn he had pledged his life to her.

As Jake made his way to the heart of the city, he wondered how Olivia looked now. She had barely passed childhood when he had last seen her and was just beginning to show the cusp of great beauty. He had no doubt after hearing stories from the returning soldiers that time had been very kind to her. Stomping quickly across the hot stone, his mind was drawn once more to the not so distant past when he had captured the city with his own army for Rowan. When news had arrived in Rome that Olivia's eldest sister, Chione, had been murdered by their father's supporters, Olivia had been emotionless. Jake had soon learned that lack of emotion was because the two sisters had never been close – always rivals for their father's affections. After Chione's death, Olivia's other sister, Rania, had declared herself Queen. He remembered that Olivia had liked to talk of Rania. The two had been close despite Olivia feeling that her sister had a simple mind.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jake took in the beautiful sight of the large, gleaming palace. The last time he had entered that palace had been with his army. Rania, throwing herself at the general in hysterics, had willingly abandoned the throne and all claim to it. For an instance, Jake had thought Rowan would have forgiven her. That belief was shortly proven wrong when, days later, Rowan had had his daughter's head delivered to Olivia on a silver platter during dinner. Jake remembered, with a pang of sympathy, the brief flash of grief that had appeared in Olivia's eyes that day before she could compose herself and play her part of rejoicing daughter – thrilled that her father's throne was secure. That brief flash of grief had prompted him to seek her out in the stables that day – where they shared their first kiss and last conversation.

His hand drifted lazily to his cheek, rubbing the burned skin there as he reminisced over the tingling sensation of her well-placed slap. Olivia had been most offended that he had kissed her. He left a week after that and the two certainly had not shared any correspondence. He wondered if she knew that he was in the city. Stopping in front of a large man who held a bit of papyrus in his hands, Jake waited to hear the announcement from the palace. The whole city had been buzzing in anticipation of this announcement.

"Her Royal Majesty, Olivia, Might of Kas, She of the Two Ladies, Flourishing of Years, Divine of Appearance, Truth is the Ka of Re, Joined with Amun, Foremost of Noble Ladies and Isis Reincarnate announces the birth of her son, Alexander Fitzgerald – Prince of Egypt, Horus reborn!"

Jake tilted his head at that information, carefully watching the large crier. Olivia had a son? And she had named him after Fitz. Jake tried not to laugh as he realized just why Fitz had sent him on this mission. He would be lying if he said he was not annoyed at playing babysitter to his general's pregnant mistress. Sighing, he headed toward the nearest pub. He would gather more information before his ship left at the end of the week.

 _ **Dies lovis, Ides Martius, 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Fitz's Villa**_

 _ **Rome, Italia**_

"You seem distracted." Mellie's soft voice dragged Fitz's attention from the harbor. Placing his hands on the balcony railing, he turned to face his wife.

"Jake should return any day."

"He is already here." Fitz cocked his head to the side and stared at his wife.

"Why wasn't I told?"

"That is why I came to find you." Fitz nodded, sweeping past the tall brunette and heading toward a marble staircase.

"Tell me again why Jake needed to go to Egypt," Mellie implored, following her husband down the steps.

"There were matters that needed to be attended to."

"I thought the Egyptian queen was safely on her throne thanks to you." Mellie continued her line of questioning as the two stepped onto the main floor of the villa.

"There is no safety in Egypt," Fitz scoffed, turning to his left and marching toward a large, open room at the end of the hall.

"It sounds like a terrible place."

"It is a wonderful place," Fitz countered, turning abruptly at the archway to his office, "Excuse me, dear. Jake and I have matters to discuss."

Mellie nodded her head slowly, glancing around Fitz to a very sun-burnt Jake. Squaring her shoulders, she turned on her heel and headed back down the hall. Fitz barely made it into the room before he began questioning the other man:

"How is she?"

"From what I heard, she _and_ her son are fine. Though I never personally saw her. I wasn't allowed in the palace walls."

"Her son?"

"Alexander Fitzgerald. Fitzarion to the common people." Fitz rubbed his eyes and dropped his head for a moment, prompting Jake to add to his comment. "You didn't know she was with child?"

"No."

"You will want to travel to Alexandria, then –"

"No. _You_ will return to Egypt with an invitation from me. The next time Olivia and I meet will be on my terms – not hers." Fitz shook his head, smirking as he finished his statement.

"What's so funny?" Jake implored, watching as Fitz allowed a chuckle to pass his lips.

"The night I met her, she promised she could give me heirs. I never expected her to pay her promise so soon." Jake nodded at the general's statement, turning toward the archway.

"I will rest while you write your letters and prepare for my departure once more."

"You knew her once, didn't you Jake?"

"When she was a princess, sir. I did not know her well." Fitz nodded, waving his hand and dismissing Jake.

 _ **Dies lovis, Ides Martius, 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria, Egypt**_

"He has the general's eyes." Olivia glanced over her shoulder at her younger brother. The tall, gangly sixteen-year old stood behind her, gazing down at his nephew.

"I have yet to decide if that is a blessing or a curse." Olivia gave the small boy a smile as he nestled against his mother's chest, closing his eyes.

"A blessing. Fitzgerald cannot deny his son. Rome has a specific reason not to attack Egypt, now."

" _Rome_ ," she nearly spat in response, "A kingless land. Can the Romans be trusted _not_ to do anything?"

"That is why you should support the general's bid to be crowned." Nodding her head, Olivia stood from her seat and headed toward the door where she handed the sleeping baby to his nursemaid.

"You did not come here to speak about Alexander."

"Fitzarion."

"What?"

"The people call him Fitzarion. Use it to your advantage." Olivia sighed, crossing her arms and levelling the taller boy with her gaze.

"The military is your domain, Harrison. The kingdom is mine."

"And I think you for that daily." Harrison turned toward the small table and poured himself a goblet of wine. The golden, jeweled cup glinted in the candlelight as he held it to his lips, drinking deeply before placing it back on the table and wiping his mouth. "We should attack Syria."

"What?"

"Rome will turn there next. We're the only of Alexander's kingdom left." Exhaling sharply, Olivia moved toward her chair, seating herself on the hard, stone surface.

"If we attack Syria, Rome will attack us."

"If we attack Syria, we invite Rome to aid us."

"You want us to do the work and subsequently hand the prize to Rome."

"Thank of it as a means to an end, Olivia." Rubbing her eyes, Olivia shook her head vehemently.

"Go Harrison. Let me think." With a slight bow, Harrison exited the room.

 _ **Dies Solis, 12 Maius 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria, Egypt**_

"We warned you before that you are not welcome here." One of the tall guards spat at the ground before Jake's feet, tightening his grip around his long spear as he held it crossed with his fellow guard. Jake sighed, clutching the letter in his hand.

"I have a message from General Fitzgerald." The guard opened his mouth and Jake steeled himself for another quick, negative retort, but was spared by the soldiers turning swiftly on their feet, kicking up small dust particles in the process, and bending quickly at the waist. Jake eyed the tall, handsome man behind the soldiers.

"Let him through."

"Of course, Your Highness." Jake narrowed his eyes, quickly deciding that his savior must be known other than Olivia's brother and general, Harrison. Smirking at the guards, he joined in Harrison's strides toward the palace.

"You have business with the Queen?"

"General Fitzgerald sent me with a letter for Her Majesty." Harrison nodded, their sandals clicking in unison over the smooth stone. Harrison led Jake up the white steps, moving too fast for Jake to truly take in the images surrounding him. The palace hadn't changed much from his last visit. He followed Harrison down a long, open corridor and up another set of stairs before coming to a stop at the entrance to a balcony.

"Forgive me, but I must request that you remain here until the Queen has invited you in." Jake nodded at Harrison's words, watching as the younger man passed through the archway. He waited until Harrison came back, looking slightly flustered, but bidding the older man enter.

The first thing that caught Jake's eye once he stepped through the archway was the image of Olivia, wearing a thin, sea-blue dress and standing in the sun – its warmth enveloping her. She appeared to glow in the sunlight, every bit the beautiful, mysterious goddess she portrayed herself as to her people. From Olivia, his eyes fell to a tall, thin redhead holding a grinning baby boy. The boy's eyes caused Jake to do a stunned double-take.

"Captain Ballard," Olivia's face remained stony and her voice was cold.

"Your Grace." Jake bowed before her and thrust his hand forward, dangling the letter before her. Rolling her eyes, Olivia took the letter and flipped it over, examining Fitz's seal.

"What is this?"

"A letter from the general. I cannot say what it holds." She nodded and broke the seal, holding the letter distastefully in front of her eyes.

"He has Fitz's eyes."

"My son is of no importance to you," Olivia stated sternly, "And you may return to Rome. You may tell your _general_ that any future meeting will be on Egyptian soil."

"Olivia –"

"Jake," her tone held plenty of warning, but he chose to ignore it and plunge ahead either way.

"That man would give you the world if he could. Go to Rome."

"Do not tell me what to do." She knew that she shouldn't, but she took a step toward him anyway.

"Go. To. Rome." With each word, he stepped closer until he was standing right before her, towering over her small frame. He moved to take her letter and found himself swiftly surrounded by guards.

"I warned you," Olivia stated, watching in disdain as the guards held Jake in between them, their hands wound tightly around his arms.

"You wouldn't –"

"Not for long, no," she shook her head, addressing the guards, "Put him in a cell for the night. Make sure he leaves for Rome in the morning and does not step foot in Alexandria again."

Turning away from the men as they dragged the captain from the balcony, she moved to comfort her gently sobbing son.


	4. Summum bonum

_**Historical Note:**_ _ **The gondola wasn't invented until 697 A.D., according to some historians, and 1097 A.D, according to others. In truth, we aren't sure of its origins. With that said, as this is a fiction piece, in Fitz's Rome, gondolas already exist.**_

 _ **Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Four: Summum bonum**_

 _ **Dies Veneris, 25 Sextilis 46 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Fitz's Villa**_

 _ **Outskirts of Roma, Italia**_

"It has been three years since I invited Olivia to my villa and yet my invitation still goes unanswered," Fitz bemoaned, staring down at the murky waters of the Tiberis. Behind the general's back, Jake rolled his eyes. He had hoped that Fitz would have given up his pursuit of Olivia after the first year of icy silence from Egypt, but the general's want had only seemed to intensify.

"I have been banned from Alexandria for the remainder of my life," Jake reminded Fitz, feeling the need to do so least his general suggest sending him back to that despicable country. Jake grimaced at the thought, rubbing his shoulder. He bore scars from his one night in an Alexandrian cell before being roughly and unceremoniously tossed on a ship and told to leave.

"You pushed her to her decision, Jake," Fitz turned to fix the man with his cold stare, "You are not and have never been her equal. As much as she bemoans any orders from me, she tolerates them because she understands that we are equals. _You_ overstepped your boundaries."

"I tried to convince her to visit Rome. To introduce you to your son." Fitz shook his head, turning his attention back to the Tiberis. His gaze travelled southwest, over the small gondolas propelling themselves over the shallow river. He partly hoped that he would see a golden barge gliding across the water - the woman he could not stop thinking about finally coming to see him. He closed his eyes against the disappointing image below him. She had told Jake that she did not intend to leave Egyptian soil.

"He is three, now, and does not know his father." Fitz hung his head in disappointment at the thought. This was the time that was crucial for a young boy to know his father; to know the man who could train him to be a worthy adversary both on the battlefield and the Senate floor. A faint smile crossed Fitz's face at the thought of a handsome young man, the perfect mixture of his parents, standing before the whole Senate of Rome - barking orders as was his birthright.

"Who does not know his father?" The images of a bright, successful future for his only living child faded from Fitz's mind at Mellie's voice. He turned to face her, trying to remember when he stopped taking pleasure at the sight of her. If he were honest, that moment had came when he had first returned from Egypt, the image of a young, intoxicating beauty forever branded in his mind's eye.

"My son." Jake was quick to speak, staring directly at Fitz as he did so. A look of pity flashed across Mellie's face as she faced Jake.

"You have a son you do not know?"

"With a woman I met while I was in Alexandria. Fitz was offering to travel to Egypt and attempt to convince her to visit here." Mellie nodded at that statement - she knew that Jake had been banned from Alexandria, but she did not know the reason. It seemed that everyone, including her husband, was tightlipped about what Jake had done to upset the Egyptian queen.

"Unfortunately, I will not be near Egypt for some years," Fitz shrugged, tilting his head slightly and warning Jake with his eyes. He was beginning to understand just how the slightly younger man had upset Olivia some years past.

"You have no pending campaigns. We could both visit Egypt," Mellie suggested, turning her bright gaze toward her husband.

"No." Fitz's gaze travelled slightly up the river to the raised walls of Roma. Even from his distance, he could make out the faintest hint of the stench that surrounded the city during the summer months. It made him long for the salty, breezy smell of Alexandria.

"I have always wanted to travel abroad."

"Egypt is not safe, Mellie." Fitz turned to face Jake once more, pushing away from the railing and walking toward the other man. "Find Cato. Ask him to find me in my study. I'll send him to Egypt with a message."

"Another message to Egypt?" Mellie questioned, moving forward to place a hand on her husband's bicep.

"Yes." Fitz shrugged her hand away, positioning his body in an attempt to keep her from the conversation.

"Why so many messages to Egypt lately?"

"We have a shared interest in Syria," Fitz once more brushed Mellie aside, motioning for Jake to follow him to his study and leaving Mellie on the balcony to brood over his words.

 _ **Dies Veneris, 25 Sextilis 46 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Palace of the Kings**_

 _ **Alexandria, Egypt**_

"Are you still avoiding Fitz's invitation?" Harrison questioned, entering the vast courtyard. The hot sun beat down on the stone yard, the royal garden wilting slightly under the heat. Olivia glanced at her brother from the sedan where she was lazily reclining, her skin bronzing under the sun. Her hooded eyes took in the sight of her brother in his armor, his sword clanking by his side.

"I'm not his _mistress_ and it wasn't an invitation. It was a summons." Shrugging, she settled on her back, allowing her eyes to slide closed and the warmth of the day to envelope her.

"Isn't that a moot point? You have his son." Harrison's eyes fell on the young boy playing quietly by the fountain, a small, wooden boat with golden details floating on the water. He noticed the wooden swords laying by the boy's feet and moved toward his nephew.

"Did you tire of your swordplay, Fitzarion?" The boy turned to face Harrison, a grin covering his sticky face and his blue eyes lighting with excitement.

"No one would play with me!" Grasping a sword, he tossed it toward the soldier and shrieked with glee as Harrison deftly caught the light piece of wood. Harrison grinned as the boy grasped his own play sword steadily in his hand and held it before him, ready to clash with Harrison. Lightly tapping the boy's sword with his own, Harrison allowed his nephew to quickly disarm him, smiling as the little boy squealed in delight and asked for a rematch. Time and time again they crossed swords and Harrison allowed himself to be disarmed, causing a smile to grace Olivia's lips as she watched the two.

"You will be a fine soldier one day, Fitzarion," Harrison stated, lifting the young boy off his feet and heading toward Olivia's seat.

"Uncle, why do you call me Fitzarion? Mommy calls me Alexander." Harrison gently patted the boy's back, looking anywhere but his inquisitive, blue eyes. His gaze rested on Olivia who slowly inclined her head in their direction.

"Your subjects call you Fitzarion, my prince, because you remind them of your father."

"They know my father?" Harrison grinned, his nephew never ceased to amaze him with his questioning mind. Olivia stood from her seat, the gentle breeze swaying the white silk of her gown, and came to stand beside her brother and son.

"The world knows your father," she told her little boy, reaching a hand to ruffle his dark curls.

"When can I meet him, mommy?" Harrison turned a smug look toward his sister, years of attempting to convince her to take Fitzarion to meet his father seeming to have cumulated into this moment.

"Soon, Alexander, soon. Go to Abby, tell her it is time for your dinner," Olivia commanded, brushing her lips against his chubby cheek before Harrison placed him on the ground. They watched in silence as Fitzarion scampered away, tugging on Abby's hand when he reached her place by the palace doors.

"Did you mean that? Are you planning to journey to Rome?" Harrison turned hopeful eyes on Olivia. His campaign in Syria had gone well. It had taken some convincing before Olivia had allowed him to take her army east and send word to Rome - asking for their aid. Fitz had sent his own personal army to join Harrison's force. It was a sign of Fitz's devotion to Olivia that Harrison had been quick to point to her - the general had _never_ sent his own army without him at the head. Between the two forces, it hadn't taken long for Syria to fall, or for Olivia to secure the nation for herself. In a shrewd political move, she had named Fitzarion king. She knew Fitz would not allow Rome to take his son's throne.

"For Alexander's inheritance, yes."

"Fitzarion."

"In public, Harrison. In private, he is Alexander." Olivia grasped her gown in one hand, keeping it from dragging the ground as she guided the two toward the palace.

"When will you leave?"

"Next month. Can you stay your military campaigns while I travel?"

"Don't worry, Olivia, I'll keep your throne safe."

 _ **Dies Saturni, 31 October 49 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Roma, Italia**_

"Mommy, I'm cold." Olivia smiled at her son. His nursemaid had wrapped warm linens around his shoulders, trying to stop the small child's shivering. He had been cold from the moment their ships had spotted Italia - the temperature having dropped a bit from their homeland. Fitzarion pulled at the material of his toga. He hadn't been too excited about the unusual outfit and had complained to everyone who would listen that he did not want to wear it. Only Olivia's stern command had ended any further tantrum.

"It isn't that cold," Olivia shrugged, staring at the high walls of Rome. She wondered if Fitz would be within the city walls or at his villa. The last time she had been to Rome, the general had spent most of his time within the city walls - providing for no chance of the two meeting. She had been grateful that she and her father had been given free reign of Fitz's villa then. Rome had a reputation for the stench that hung over the city during warmer weather. She watched as the ship slowly came to dock at the large port.

As the party debarked from the boat, they were surprised to be greeted by Roman soldiers and a host of mounts. Olivia hadn't sent a message ahead of her visit and had attempted to be as discreet as possible. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Jake standing in front of the Roman guard, wearing gaudy silver armor and holding the reins of a white mare.

"Welcome to Roma, Your Majesty." Jake inclined his head ever so slightly, keeping his grip on the reins of the horse.

"Mommy, that man speaks funny," Fitzarion announced, looking suspiciously at Jake. Olivia tossed a gentle smile toward her son - Jake had always struggled to speak anything other than Latin.

"What are you doing here, Jake?"

"Fitz sent me to welcome and escort you to the city." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the horse. Olivia gritted her teeth, tightening her hand around her son's and headed toward the horse. One of her personal guards rushed forward to offer a hand once Olivia had swatted Jake's away, helping the queen onto her horse before lifting Fitzarion onto the white mare beside his mother. Not giving Jake time to swing onto his own mount, Olivia coaxed the horse forward. Jake scrambled to get onto his horse and catch up to her.

"The general does not want you to enter the city unguarded," Jake stated, reaching a hand out to grasp her reins.

"Oh? Does he not have as strong a grip on his city as he once did?" She raised a brow, throwing a taunting look toward the man and gripping the end of her reins, yanking them from his hands.

"He worries for the safety of his son."

"His son _is_ safe. We would have a host of capable, _Egyptian_ guards with us had you not intervened." She smiled at the sight of Fitzarion placing his hands over hers on the worn leather.

"And now you have Egyptian and Roman guards." She sighed, holding her retort to herself. She had lectured Fitzarion on the importance of maintaining his composure in public. It wouldn't do for him to see his mother lose hers and certainly not over an incapable captain like Jake Ballard. Squaring her shoulders, she rode in silence alongside the man, grateful that he, too, for once did not seem to be in the mood for speech.

The gentle sway of the horse lulled Fitzarion into sleep, causing the little boy's head to fall back against his mother's chest. His chest rose with each deep breath and Olivia moved her arms to slightly cradle him.

"Do you need help?" Jake offered, nodding toward the slumbering child.

"No," Olivia responded quickly, digging her heels into the side of her horse and coaxing it forward at a faster pace. Putting distance between her and Jake, she glanced down to cheek on her son, glad to see that he was still sleeping.

The city walls loomed high over the travelers, casting a cool shadow on the ground. Olivia shivered slightly as she passed over the shadowed ground. Spurring her horse into a faster cantor, she sighed as they crossed through the city gates and into a well-lit patch of the city. She stopped in a small garden by the wall, waiting for the rest of the guard to catch her. She pulled her shawl tightly around her head, shielding herself from the curious eyes of Rome's citizens.

"Follow me," Jake called, his horse slowly trotting past her own. She sighed and tightened her grip around her reins, urging her horse forward. She tried to shield her son from the prying eyes that followed them through the cobblestoned streets. She knew they were trying to figure out who she was - they could tell she was not Roman, but she doubted any had travelled far enough to determine where she was from.

Taking a deep breath, she tried steeling herself as they passed through a low set of walls to a private stables. She hurried to clamber from her horse before Jake could offer his hand and slowly lowered Fitzarion, brushing aside the offers for help from Jake and the Roman guard. Cradling the small boy against her body, she followed Jake inside the spacious home. He led her through winding halls to a cozy study in the rear of the home.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the man who had plagued her dreams sitting at a desk, a quill in his hand. His blue gaze snapped to her at the audible intake of breath and his gaze softened at the sight of their son in her arms. She hadn't expected to see him so soon. He slowly stood from his desk, a hand holding the side of his toga as he inched closer.

"Olivia." He brought a hand up as if to touch her cheek. Eyes watering, she tried to keep the quiver from her voice as she stated:

"Don't touch me." Dropping his hand, he turned toward Jake, giving him a look that instantly had the younger man scurrying from the room.

"Can I hold him? Does he know who I am?"

"I told him stories of you." She gently shook the young boy awake, watching as his blue eyes slowly slid open and his little fists made contact with his tired eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. His eyes widened as he took in his new surroundings.

"Mommy, we were just on a horse. How did we get here?"

"You slept Alexander." Olivia smiled at the little boy as she placed him on his unsteady feet. He clung to his mother's hand as he looked at the tall man before him. Fitz smiled at the little boy, squatting before him.

"Hello. Alexander, is it?"

The child nodded, "That's what my mommy calls me. My uncle calls me Fitzarion. He says everyone does."

"Which do you prefer?"

"Fitzarion. Uncle Harrison says it's because I look like my daddy. But I've never met him." Fitz chuckled at that - his son was well-spoken. Olivia was certainly raising him to be a well-educated prince.

"Well, Fitzarion, what do you think?" The little boy's eyes grew wider and he turned a curious expression to his mother. Olivia smiled, slowly releasing his hand.

"Alexander, this is your father." A look of surprise passed across Fitzarion's face, quickly followed by a grin, before he shyly looked at his father.

"I'm glad we could finally meet," Fitz offered. The small boy nodded, looking at the hand that Fitz had extended toward him. Quickly, Fitzarion moved toward his father, ignoring his extended hand, and throwing his arms around his neck. Laughing, Fitz stood with his son in his arms.

"He likes you," Olivia said as Fitzarion tightened his grip around his father's neck.

"Fitz." Olivia turned abruptly toward the doorway at the high-pitched woman's voice. She tilted her head to the side at the sight of the tall brunette entering the room unbidden. The woman stopped in the doorway, eyeing Olivia and Fitz, with Fitzarion still in his arms. Fitz turned an annoyed expression toward his wife.

"Yes, Mellie?"

"I was unaware that we had visitors."

"The Egyptian fleet only arrived this morning." Mellie's eyes widened as she took in Olivia's appearance. Slowly, she took a step closer and bowed slightly.

"Your Majesty," she offered in a feeble voice before turning her attention back to Fitz and the child he held.

"This is Egypt's young prince," Fitz introduced, "Alexander."

A stony look crossed Mellie's face as Fitzarion turned his attention toward her, his bright eyes taking in her appearance. She nodded curtly.

"I am leaving to visit with Aurelia." Fitz nodded, not bothering to watch his wife leave the room.

 _ **Ballard Residence**_

 _ **Roma, Italia**_

"How can you be so certain, Mellie?" Aurelia tossed her blonde hair to the side, sipping at her wine as she watched her friend from across the settee.

"He has blue eyes. _Fitz's_ eyes." Mellie took a deep breath, trying to still her anger. She tried to avoid the look of pity that Aurelia was throwing her way. As close as Jake and Fitz were, Mellie had no doubt that Aurelia knew more than she was telling.

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Aurelia," Mellie hated to beg, but if that was what she would have to do to get the truth from her friend, then beg she would, "Don't hold anything from me. I can hear it."

"He's Fitz's son."

"How?"

"Jake said it was a deal between the two. He would give her, her throne and she would give him an heir."

"That's it? Just _an_ heir?"

Aurelia slowly nodded, taking a gulp of her wine and swishing the spices around her mouth for a moment before answering, "That's what Jake said. Maybe, as long as you don't fight him being Fitz's heir, it won't happen again."

"It will."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because she will want her own heir. They aren't finished."


	5. L'amour et la révolution

_**A/N – First apology, I'm sorry this is a little short, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing. My daughter's sleep schedule has been insane and I'm not getting much sleep at all. I'm going to slowly work on giving everything an update.**_

 _ **Historical note: The usage of tattoos in ancient Egypt is debated – at first, we thought only lower class women got tattoos. With newer knowledge, it is believed that, as well as low class women who received tattoos to symbolise their jobs, upper class women also would get tattooed with the god/goddess's symbol they chose to devote their life to. I'm not well-versed in Roman mythology, so please excuse any mistakes. As for why the queen would choose to travel to Rome, Cleopatra actually**_ _ **did**_ _ **travel to Rome to visit Caesar, spending around three years there, and was present when he was assassinated – slipping away in the middle of the night after. – G x.**_

 _ **Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Five:**_

 _ **L'amour et la révolution**_

 _ **Dies Solis, Calends November, 46 B.C.E.**_

 _ **Roma, Italia**_

Jake frowned at the loud music playing throughout the streets. Scantily clad dancers moved seductively to the rhythms. Any other time and he would have a smile on his lips, a swagger to his step, but not tonight. His wife stood by his side, Mellie speaking to her in hushed whispers. The crowd at the bottom of the steps was growing antsy. He cracked his neck, turning around as the first cheers from the crowd erupted. The large door to the senate stood ajar, having been heaved open by the beefy guards. Fitz, dressed in a purple toga, stood at the top of the marble stairs, his arm outstretched and Olivia's hand laying gracefully over his. The gold of her gown contrasted nicely with her skin and Jake wondered just how she managed to stay upright with the heavy crown on her head. He watched as she waved with her free hand before bending at the waist, bowing to the people of Rome and eliciting louder cheers.

The smell of spices swirled in the air - the wine was spiced, the meats were spiced. Jake wasn't quite sure if there was anything that _hadn't_ been spiced. Where the smell of spices assaulted his senses, so too did the smell of the heavy perfume favoured by the Egyptians. Many of the queen's court frequented the streets, huddling in groups together and eyeing the Romans with barely disguised contempt. He had already lost count of the times he had heard the word 'savages' whispered amongst the foreigners. The feeling was definitely mutual.

The sound of his wife's voice drew his attention to the two women standing beside him. Aurelia's golden curls had been piled atop her head while Mellie's dark hair hung in a thick braid. He frowned at the purple gown Mellie wore - a desperate attempt to solidify her image as Fitz's wife, no doubt. Something told Jake that by the end of the night, Mellie would wish she had placed more distance between herself and her husband. After all, even though the queen and general had not worn matching colours, standing before the crowded streets of Rome, they seemed to match more than Mellie could dream of matching with her husband. Jake had to admit - Olivia looked like she belonged by Fitz's side. Or was it the other way 'round?

"It appears the Egyptian queen has conquered Rome," Aurelia stated, wrapping her arm around Mellie. Jake shook his head at the sight of his general's wife attempting to fight back her tears and allowed his cruel observation to leave his lips:

"That isn't all she's conquered."

/

"They love you." Olivia straightened herself from the impromptu bow she had just taken and glanced at Fitz, winking.

"I don't need them to love me," she shrugged, allowing him to lead her to a row of seats overlooking the festivities of the crowd below.

" _I_ would like them to love you." She sighed at that comment, carefully lowering herself onto a small, soft couch and watching wearily as he took a seat beside her, the confined space causing their legs to touch.

"There is no reason for them to love me, Fitz. I want them to love Alexander."

Swallowing past the lump in his throat and feeling apprehensive for the first time in his life, Fitz stated: "Imagine, Olivia, a _united_ Rome and Egypt."

"I have imagined such a thing and with our son, it will be possible." He tried not to laugh at her ability to look past what he was truly saying.

"It can be possible without our son," Fitz muttered, reclining against the back of the sofa and watching as the crowd continued their loud celebrations below. He was afraid to look at Olivia, afraid of her rejection.

"Fitz." Her face remained expressionless, regal. She refused to turn her head to him, instead following his cue and watching the crowd below.

"Olivia," he took a breath, reaching across the small space and taking her hand in his. He waited for her to yank her smaller hand from his grasp and was pleasantly surprised when she didn't.

"We are being watched," she observed, her face neutral as she continued to stare at the crowd.

"Let them watch, my queen." Fitz brought her hand to his lips, brushing her silky skin against them. It was a small victory that when he lowered his arm, she kept her hand atop his. He spared a look at Mellie, standing beside Jake and his wife. He knew that he should feel bad about the tears flowing down her face, but he didn't. Theirs had been a marriage of convenience and now, it was no longer convenient for him. It was harsh, yes, but he knew that any other senator or general would have made the same choice in his situation. Between a noble lady who had failed to give an heir and a queen who had more than delivered, the choice was easy. It was hardly a choice at all.

"How long do the festivities last?" She wasn't unused to long festivals - Egypt was practically the birthplace of long festivals, but it had been a long journey. She needed rest and she didn't like the idea of Alexander being at Fitz's home, alone with his father's guards. She didn't trust _anyone_ to watch her son, but herself.

"We can retire at any time." His eyes twinkled in her direction. She took a deep breath. He watched her compose herself, moving her free hand to the armrest and giving a slight nod. He rose from his seat, moving his hand to her elbow and helping her rise as well. It only took him minutes to make excuses for the two of them and lead her to a waiting chariot. He took special care to help onto the chariot and avoid dragging her gown. The wind coupled with the noise of the chariot's wheels hitting the cobblestoned streets prevented any conversation between the two.

"I will retire to my ship once I have collected Alexander," she announced as he helped her from the chariot in front of his home. He furrowed his brows.

"You aren't staying on a ship." Olivia's dark eyes flashed for a moment and she turned to face him with a look of disdain. He sighed. He didn't feel like playing this back and forth game between them anymore. They had a son. _He_ had an entire future planned for them.

"You expect me to stay here? In your home with your wife down the hall?"

"I expect you to keep my son in my home where he is safe - not on a damn boat where anything could go wrong."

She drew herself to her full height, an unimpressive feat in anyone but her. She was short, but her aura and the effort he knew it took to stand straight under the weight of her golden gown had him stepping back in awe. She knew the challenge she was issuing before the words even left her mouth - knew that she was, more than likely, asking more of him than he could ever give. It wasn't in her nature to do things the easy way, though.

"He is no safer here in this home now that your wife knows beyond a doubt he is your son than he would be on _my_ ship surrounded by _my_ men. If you want the two of us to stay, you will make her leave."

One look at Fitz's face and she knew that they were about to have the argument of the century - possibly of all time.

/

"My lady?" Mellie turned her attention from the empty seats that her husband had accompanied with the Egyptian queen not much earlier. Their abrupt departure, as well as the cheers that had followed them and the suggestive shouts from Fitz's fellow senators, had caused a torrent of tears to fall from her eyes, tears that she was still in the process of drying.

"What?" The servant cowered at her tone, bowing his head and mumbling:

"The General has asked that you spend the night with Lady Aurelia." Mellie whirled around so fast that her long, braided hair slapped her face. She winced slightly at the stinging sensation. The storm brewing in her eyes had the man scrambling to leave, not sparing a glance back. Mellie turned toward Aurelia.

"He is forcing me from my home because _she_ is there." Aurelia patted her friend's shoulder, sympathy marring her soft, beautiful features. Before she had a chance to speak, Jake opened his mouth:

"What do you expect Mellie? You were a forced negotiation. _She_ is a choice - a beautiful, exotic, intoxicating choice. Unlike you, she's given him an heir and he thinks she'll give him a crown." The sound of Mellie's ringed hand making contact with Jake's cheek rang in the noisy night, Jake's raised cup of ale tilted and allowing the liquid to pour into his lap. His eyes darkened as he stared at Mellie, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Fitz's wife or not, you are still a _woman_ ," he snarled, "Leave. Aurelia will take you home. When I return, you will be nowhere to be seen. Understood?" Jake's attention turned once more to the party and he quickly called for another ale, ignoring the two women marching quietly away.

/

"She will not be staying in my villa tonight," Fitz announced, rubbing his temples. The woman was downright infuriating.

"Alexander and I shall stay, then," Olivia shrugged, turning toward the archway, the golden gown swaying harshly against her legs. The dress still amazed Fitz. It was heavy - that much he had learned when he had held the train for her as they had entered his chariot earlier that evening. Her firm breasts pushed against the low front, threatening to spill out at any given moment. That, coupled with the tight fit that highlighted her every curve, had made the dress one of his favourites. He found it even more stunning now that she had abandoned the matching heavy, golden crown she had worn earlier on his desk, her hair falling to her shoulders in braids.

Her voice slowly drew him from his thoughts. "Perhaps a servant could show me to my rooms?"

"Your room is with me." He moved toward her, leaving barely an arm's reach between the two.

"Your room is where you sleep. With your wife," she shuffled away, placing more space between the two.

"Then we'll stay in another room," he reached for her arm, grasping her velvety skin in his hand, "It has been nearly four years since I have seen you, Olivia. Please. Give me this night."

She dropped her shoulders at his pleading tone. It was unlike him - usually commanding and confident. When had that passed the line of being bed partners - _only_ bed partners, into lovers? Was it when he had entered her room, all those years ago, and handed her, her crown? She had blamed her emotions then on being with child, but maybe they _had_ been something else. She didn't know and she didn't care to dwell on the thought. Whatever, whenever it had happened, she did care about him and his pleading tone had eaten its way to her heart.

Sighing, she held her hand toward him, deciding that she had pushed him too far for one night, "Show me to your room."

He led her to a winding, white marble staircase. Wordlessly, he had lifted her off her feet, staggering slightly under her weight combined with the gown. New respect for her enduring the night in the masterpiece swelled for her as he slowly climbed the stairs and made a right, toward his room. Inside the room, he sat her by the featherbed and opened the balcony doors, allowing the cool night air to fill the room. He took a moment to glance down at the Tiberis, stars sparkling against the dark river's surface.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned to find Olivia's gown pooled at her feet and the queen, unashamed of her body, glowing in the dim moonlight that had invaded the room. She was more beautiful than he had remembered. Her toned stomach was slightly more giving than it had been and her breasts were larger - not that he was complaining. The dark ink marking her inner bicep caught his eye as she raised her arms, stretching. Moving forward, he caught her arm in his hands, turning it over to trace the symbol.

"It's a -"

"Tyet," he finished. He hadn't been idle during the years she had refused to speak to him. No. He had spent his time well - studying the culture of the woman he had decided he had fallen in love with. "The symbol of Isis."

"I am always in her service." Her eyes shined bright with her conviction.

"I thought you _are_ Isis." Apparently, there was still something left to be learned.

"I am and I am not," she shrugged. Her breath smelled like the spiced ale they had drank earlier that night. "I am her host. Her anchor to our world."

He nodded, dropping her arm and wrapping his around her waist. Egyptian beliefs still alluded him for the most part. In truth, their gods scared him. They were more active in the lives of Egyptians than his Roman gods were in the lives of Romans. Shaking his head, he bent his lips to hers, sighing at the first real connection they had had in years. She raised her arms, wrapping them around his neck and slipping her tongue into the warmth of his mouth. Her fingers tugged at the knot of his toga, trying to pry the material from his body. She couldn't explain what had brought her to the decision, but she had not shared a bed with anyone during his absence.

Their reunion was bittersweet. He took his time, getting to know her body once more. It drove her mad, but she allowed it. It wasn't until the first rays of the sunlight began creeping into the room that the two lovers finally collapsed in a spent heap, the bed linens in a heap on the floor. Olivia's head rested on Fitz's well chiseled chest, her hand lazily squeezing his bicep.

"Ra is reborn," she murmured sleepily. Fitz followed her gaze to the open doors, scrunching his brows.

"What?"

"Every night, Nut, the sky goddess, kills Ra and he must travel through the duat - the underworld before he is reborn in time to once more gift us with light."

"Every morning, Apollo drives the sun into the sky with his chariot." Fitz offered his own belief of how the sun came to the sky each morning as he gently rubbed her back.

"Do you think we were blessed tonight?" she asked and when her hand drifted to her flat abdomen, he knew exactly what she was asking.

"We can pray," he offered, kissing her forehead, "Get some sleep, my queen."


	6. Moving On

_**Historical Note: All of Cornificia's work has been lost, but we know from writings that she had been a very popular, very successful poet in a time when women were not prominent in literature. Her work was still being read as late as the 5th century C.E. before inexplicably disappearing. The ancient Egyptians spoke Coptic, but this language in its spoken form has not survived well into our time and so the occasional "Egyptian" phrases that Olivia and her court speak are actually Egyptian Arabic - the closest spoken language to Coptic.**_

 _ **Sabah el noor means good morning.**_

 _ **Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Six: Moving On**_

"Don't hold your sword so loosely," Fitz advised, gripping the wooden handle in his hand as he watched Fitzarion adjust his own grip. The two clashed swords, but, whereas swordplay with uncle Harrison had mostly been about playing, swordplay with Fitz was about teaching the young boy proper technique. Sweat beaded above Fitzarion's brow and he twisted his mouth in concentration as he swung his sword, attempting to unarm his father. The gentle morning breeze tugged at their togas, bringing the stench of the city through the otherwise lovely garden.

Olivia sat by the high wall surrounding the garden, a table with fruit before her. She wore a turquoise gown, cinched at the waist by a belt of silver, with a matching turquoise cape covering her shoulders. A silver coronet sat atop her head featuring Isis holding the moon aloft. Her hair hung in braids, kohl enclosing her eyes. Fitz had watched in fascination as she had done her makeup shortly after waking, listening to her explain how the eye makeup protected her eyes from the sun. He had only protested when she had made a move to apply the makeup to his son's eyes - he planned to introduce the little boy to the Senate and did not want to explain why he was wearing kohl on his eyes. To his amazement, Olivia had not argued.

"Harder," Fitz commanded, sidestepping the small child's swing. Swinging hard, Fitzarion rapped his sword against his father's, the wood clanking against the general's bare forearm and leaving a small, raised welt. Fitz barely grimaced - he had received worse injuries on the battlefield. Swinging his sword around, Fitzarion's sword went clattering to the ground and a frown covered his face. Fitz wasn't about to let him win just because he was a child. _When_ his son won, it would be by a stroke of skill.

"Uncle Harrison is more fun," Fitzarion complained, a pout covering his face as he took off toward his mother, sliding onto the stone bench beside her and plucking a cherry from the bowl on the table. Olivia placed a kiss atop his head.

"Your uncle is more concerned about playtime than turning you into a soldier." Fitz sauntered to the table, plucking a peach from Olivia's bowl.

"There will be plenty of time to train him," Olivia stated, her eyes scanning the parchment before her. Fitz squinted, reading the title. Cornificia's collection of epigrams. Why didn't that surprise him? Cornificia had become popular recently - her epigrams were nothing short of perfection. He wondered where Olivia had found the scroll. He was sure he didn't have it amongst his literary collection.

"Hmph," Fitz grunted, resting on the bench beside Olivia, careful to avoid sitting on the fabric of her dress. The silver of his toga blended nicely with the turquoise of her gown. The lapis lazuli stone, encased in a delicate ring of silver, that he had given her that morning sparkled as she moved her left hand. She wore no other jewellery besides her ring and coronet. The coronet was there to denote rank, but the ring… she _wanted_ it to be noticed. That put a smile on his face.

"Do you believe the Senate will approve your request?" Olivia questioned, moving her hand to his arm and resting it on the tanned, muscled skin.

"Yes." He was confident they would agree to make Fitzarion his heir. They had loved Olivia the night before and there had been talk for years about who would succeed the general, after Karen had died. He still felt a pang in his chest whenever he thought of his daughter. She had married his fellow general, Pompey. The man was six years his senior and his biggest rival for power. The marriage had been meant to play a role in issuing a truce between the two men and it had until Karen and her son had died in childbirth. Fitz had blamed his son-in-law for his daughter's death and, following Pompey's execution at the hands of Olivia's brother, the triumvirate that had successfully ruled Rome for years ended, paving the way for Fitz to make his bid for ultimate power. A bid that Olivia had helped to solidify by bringing Fitzarion to him.

" _That_ wasn't the request I was inquiring after." A look of understanding crossed Fitz's face. He had promised that he would petition the Senate to grant a divorce. He didn't have to have the Senate's approval, but it would make his plans easier to follow through with if they did offer it. He almost wondered if he shouldn't wait, though. He hadn't entirely thought of how he was going to address the issue of Egypt with the Senate and announcing that he intended to make Olivia his wife would make the other men uneasy, he knew. As much as they loved Olivia, they would not allow him to combine the two countries.

"I will address that when they are ready to hear such a request." He had to choose his words carefully. She had thrown all reason out earlier that morning when they had first discussed the possibility of marriage. He grinned at the thought of that morning's conversation - one that he hadn't thought they would ever reach.

/

 _Fitz yawned, stretching and slowly opening his eyes. He glanced out the doorway, squinting at the sight of the sun. It was midday - they had been asleep for quite a while. Rolling onto his side, he propped his head in his hand as he watched the sleeping beauty beside him. Her hair was a mess, spread out on his pillows, and she had the bed linens wrapped tightly around her body. He chuckled. It was a good thing he was accustomed to the weather because she hadn't shared at all._

" _Sabah el noor," she mumbled, pushing herself into a sitting position. He shook his head - he had no clue what she was saying, and watched as her eyes widened, taking in her surroundings, the linens clutched to her chest. Her eyes softened and she dropped the bed linens as she remembered where she was._

" _We slept late," Fitz informed her, trying to keep his gaze on her face. It was a difficult task when the top half of her gorgeous body had been bared to him._

" _You kept me awake until the morning," she accused, tossing a leg over his waist and straddling him. He leaned against the pillows, his hands gently stroking her bare legs, and gave her his best lazy smile. He was enjoying his morning view._

" _Were you not satisfied?" he questioned, feeling his body respond to the slow swirl of her hips against his. Her response to his question was to cover his lips with hers, running her tongue across his bottom lip. His grip tightened on her hips, leaving marks, as she gripped his shoulders and lifted her body. He moved one hand between the two of them, positioning himself at her entrance, and helped her slowly lower herself, completely enveloping him in her intoxicating warmth._

" _Many times," she whispered against his lips, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Unlike the night before, the couple moved in quick, powerful bursts of motion. They were tired of taking it slow. Throwing his head back, Fitz gripped her hips tightly, holding her still as he came._

 _Rolling to the side, Olivia rested her head against his chest, purring with contentment as he moved his hand to her hair, stroking the long locks. "I don't want you to leave me again."_

 _Fitz tilted his head, shocked at her quiet admission. He didn't_ _ **want**_ _to be separated from her again, either. "We could get married."_

" _You_ _ **are**_ _married," she reminded him, drawing lazy circles on his chest with her hand._

" _I don't have to be." Silence fell on the room, the gentle breeze cooling their heated skin. For the first time in his life, he was nervous. He hadn't felt this way once in his long military career - even on the eve of some of the biggest battles of his life. Waiting for Olivia's response, though … "It's okay if you don't feel the same."_

 _She was quiet a moment longer before finally speaking, the confident, 'everyone else be damned' demeanour she typically displayed was absent, "This was supposed to be how I got my crown. My plan didn't go farther than seducing you and getting you to agree to hand me my throne. I knew there was a possibility that I would have a child. I_ _ **promised**_ _you a child."_

 _She took a deep breath, pushing herself into a sitting position and turning her head to look into his warm, blue eyes, "I wasn't prepared to fall for you. I spend so much of my time pushing others away - creating a wall between me and them. You never cared about that wall. I'm not sure you ever realised that it existed. We have spent so little time together and yet it feels as if it has been a lifetime. You know me, you understand me like no one else can._

 _I wanted to believe that having your son is what made me feel this way, but…I have felt something more for you from the moment you first unrolled that rug. Then you gave me Alexander and I have not been able to imagine being with anyone else since. The throne beside me remains empty because I cannot see anyone else sitting there."_

 _He blinked, unbelieving of what he had just heard. He had endured three painfully silent years. She hadn't told him she was expecting their child. She hadn't so much as sent a letter after their son's birth. If he hadn't sent Jake to Alexandria, he wouldn't have known about Alexander until the moment Olivia had carried the little prince into his study. He didn't want to argue with her - he had spent enough time arguing. He had been angry with her for too long._

" _I wanted to hate you," he chuckled at the pout that crossed her face, "Before we met. Everyone seemed to love you, but from the stories they told…you seemed a bit…"_

" _Confident?" she supplied, sliding back down in the bed and laying her head on his chest once more._

" _Sure," he laughed, his hand instantly going to her hair, "You impressed me when we first met. You were every bit as insufferable as I imagined, but you were also smart and funny. When you offered to share my bed, I wanted to turn you away…"_

" _You tried to turn me away."_

" _But you wouldn't take no for an answer."_

" _And now we have Alexander."_

" _We have Alexander."_

" _Okay."_

 _Fitz pushed himself up, leaning over the woman beside him, "Okay what?"_

" _I'll marry you."_

/

"This is my home." Mellie stood outside the villa gates, her arms crossed as she glared at the soldiers standing guard. To her shock, they had refused to allow her past the gates.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but the General's orders…" Her gaze fell to the tall Egyptian guards standing by her husband's soldiers. A sharp, sarcastic laugh left her lips.

"I see. _She's_ still here." Her attention was drawn to the front of her home where her husband was exiting, the Egyptian queen by his side and her son, _their_ son, gripping Fitz's hand. She frowned at their attire. Fitz's silver toga complimented Olivia's turquoise gown and the silver accents she had added completed her look. The little prince also wore a silver toga, making a comparison between his father and him all the easier. They looked every bit the perfect family.

"Where are they going?"

"The General is addressing the Senate." She watched as he lifted the young boy into the waiting carriage and turned to offer his hand to the woman beside him, helping her into the large, wooden box on wheels.

"He addressed the Senate yesterday."

"And he is addressing them once more today." She whirled around, a frown marring her face. Fitz's soldiers would have never spoken to her like that before. She could almost feel the change.

"I need more gowns if he intends for me to stay with Aurelia." The solider nodded absently, his attention drifting to the carriage which had suddenly sprung into motion.

"I will let the General know. You _have_ to leave now, my lady." She groaned, tossing her head back and running through her options. From the looks on the soldiers' faces and the tone that had been used, she wouldn't get very fair by defying them. With one final look toward the carriage that was inching closer to the gates, she swept her gown into one hand and took off at a quick pace the way she had come.

/

"You didn't address our marriage." Olivia leaned against the balcony overlooking the Tiberis. Fitz crossed his arms, watching the woman on his balcony staring at the river.

"It wasn't the right time." He inched toward Olivia, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I know that it wasn't the right time, but that doesn't mean that I didn't want you to mention it." He smiled - he understood how she felt. He knew the logical way to go about introducing Olivia to his peers, but his heart didn't want to go about the logical way.

"I'm going to bring up my divorce, first."

"When?"

"Olivia…you know these things take time." She twisted in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.

"I want to show your son _your_ country." He smiled, placing his lips on hers.

"I'll start making plans."

"I want you to make Mellie move out."

"Okay." She was surprised at how quickly he agreed to that stipulation.

"I'm all in," he mumbled, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.


	7. Ex Lege

_**Carpe Omnia**_

 _ **Chapter Seven:**_

 _ **Ex Lege**_

Mellie glanced around the large, crowded square. News that the Senate were to make an announcement had spread rapidly amongst the city the day prior. She had actively avoided the announcement - Senate announcements were ridiculously boring - until she had heard Fitz's name mentioned. She hadn't seen her husband in a full moon's time. News of his ongoing negotiations, the reason of which was unknown, with the Senate had reached her ears. Now, she would finally learn what her husband was up to.

The tall, gangly crier drew her attention to the top of the square. A guard on either side loudly tapped their weapons' ends against the stone - drawing the first row or so's attention. Slowly, a hushing sound fell across the square until, finally, the crowded city was eerily quiet.

Mellie stole a glance at the man beside her, a snarl forming across her porcelain face. Jake Ballard. Her husband's right-hand man. She had thought she could trust him, but he had kept the news of Fitz's bastard son from her. He had been late home every night as well and, though Aurelia claimed to know nothing, Mellie had no doubt that Jake knew what Fitz was planning.

"His Royal Highness Alexander Fitzgerald, Prince of Egypt, King of Syria, is, from this day hence, by proclamation of the Senate, heir to the name and estate of General Fitzgerald Grant!"

Mellie's face remained stonily impassive. She hadn't been able to give Fitz an heir and, with her age, it was unlikely she would do so. But now? If she did manage to have a child, it would have no claim to her husband's fortune. Her eyes scanned the crowd, her ears perking at the comments some mumbled, some shouted.

"Rome will conquer Egypt yet!"

"Rome has _already_ conquered Egypt!"

Mellie's mood soured at the reminder that it was the Egyptian queen, not her, that currently shared her husband's bed. She whipped her head to the side, her dark eyes glaring at the tall captain beside her.

"Does my husband intend to petition the Senate for a divorce?"

Jake's unwavering, steadfast gaze on the crier was all the confirmation she needed. Biting her lip, she reminded herself that she shouldn't cry in front of her husband's friend. She had been foolish enough to confront him over Fitz's intentions. There was no doubt in her mind that Jake reported everything she said to Fitz. Lowering her gaze and picking at an invisible string on her gown, Mellie tilted her head at the first tidbits of conversation beside her. From the corner of her eye, she could just make out the two women whispering - one older lady and the other, Mellie presumed, her daughter.

"Did you see the prince yesterday?" The young woman's eyes shone with excitement.

"See him? He asked your brother to play swords with him - and the Queen allowed it! Imagine: your brother practicing swordplay with a prince!"

"I so wish I had been able to come with you. What was the Queen like?"

"She's wonderful, Fabia! Beautiful and kind and I do believe she cares quite a bit for our general."

Mellie rolled her eyes at the woman's excitement - Olivia wasn't the only one who could care for _their_ general. Gathering her gown in one hand, she turned her back to the women and their conversation.

"May I have a guard?" She hated to ask the question - _hated_ that her husband had put her in the position of having to beg a guard from a friend.

Jake pulled at his chin, his expression remaining quite serious before he responded with a flippant wave of his hand, "Go. But you are to keep your distance from the General's estate."

Nodding, she and the guard that broke from Jake's guards headed toward the heart of the city.

"Alexander," Olivia called, her arm wrapped tightly around Fitz's, "it is time for dinner."

The little prince glanced at his mother, allowing the wooden soldiers he held in his hands to clatter to the cobblestone. He sprang to his feet, pulling at the emerald green toga that was a tad too long.

"Go inside. Rashida is waiting," Fitz referenced his son's nurse. Alexander nodded, tripping over his toga on his way inside.

"We need to take him to a seamstress," Fitz stated, shaking his head.

"Antonia gave him the outfit this morning. She said it was…"

"Augustus's," Fitz's bemused smile quickly faded as he said the name.

"She said that you wouldn't want to - "

"It's fine, Olivia. That was ages ago."

She bowed her head, unsure of how to continue. She had, of course, inquired about the little boy whose clothing was now being passed to her son. Fitz's servants had been reluctant to volunteer any information until Antonia, the keeper of the home. The woman had made the queen promise not to mention the name to the general; however.

Squeezing Fitz's arm, she rested her head against his shoulder, trying with that small gesture to let him know that she was there and willing to listen should he decide to speak. The sound of clattering dishes broke the couple apart and had both running toward the dining area of the home.

Inside the dining room, chaos reigned. Plates full of food were splattered across the tiled floor and a servant laid on the floor, trembling. Alexander jumped from his seat, running toward his parents when he noticed them at the doorway. Olivia wrapped her arms around the little boy as he hid his face in her skirt.

"Take him to his room." Olivia didn't argue with Fitz's command. Instead, she jumped to action at his urgent tone and quickly led their son from the room. With Olivia and Alexander gone, Fitz crept further into the room, stopping where the young, brunette servant girl still lay on the cold stone, trembling and foaming at the mouth. Her dark eyes had rolled back into her head, revealing her bloodshot whites.

"My lord, she…"

"Was my son's taster, yes."

"Was? She's still -"

"She won't survive. The best you could do now, Antonia, would be to put the poor child out of her misery." Fitz's tone was cold and his eyes colder still as Antonia accepted the general's proffered military dagger - the golden handle gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

"My son didn't -" The gurgling sound from the girl on the floor drowned the rest of the general's question, a bubble of blood forming on her lips.

"No, my lord," Antonia responded, "His Highness did not touch the food. She collapsed as we were serving the table."

The grey-haired woman wiped the blade on the girl's skirt, staining the white fabric a pinkish hue before handing the blade, handle first, to the tall man behind her. Sheathing the blade, Fitz watched as the girl, blood pouring from the deep gash on her throat, took a last, shaky breath.

"Who prepared the food?" Fitz demanded, glancing at the food the servants were rushing to clean from the floor.

"Felix, my lord. He disappeared before we served the food."

Sighing, Fitz glanced to the doorway where his personal guard stood. The armoured men had come running upon hearing the first sounds of commotion emanating from inside the home. "Find the cook."

The men nodded, quickly spreading from the doorway. Fitz crossed his arms, shaking his head at the sight of the mess before him. Antonia was quick to find a sheet, covering the body as they waited for it to be removed. Almost as an afterthought, Fitz turned to a servant and said:

"Someone needs to notify her family. And get this mess cleaned."

He stomped from the room, taking the stairs to Alexander's room two at a time. Inside the room, he found Olivia standing at the balcony, staring out at the city in the fading sunlight. Stopping where his son played on the floor with wooden chariots, he placed kiss atop Alexander's head, whispering a word or two to the boy before continuing to the balcony.

"Is she…" Olivia trailed, her knuckles white as she gripped the railing.

"Dead," Fitz confirmed, wrapping an arm around Olivia's shoulders - she had dressed in a red and black toga that morning, his family colours. A shiver shook her body and she turned a wet gaze to him.

"Who…who tried to kill our son?" Her voice quivered and, despite her attempt at maintaining a steely gaze, a tear fell from her eyes.

"My men are searching for the cook now."

"Alexander and I need to -"

"Stay where you are." Once more, his voice took a hard, commanding tone. This time; however, she was far less receptive as she pulled away from his embrace, turning to search for her son and breathing a sigh of relief when she found him still on the floor, playing.

"Someone attempted to murder my son. In _your_ home, Fitzgerald! I have to go…"

"Back to Egypt? I seem to recall you once telling me that it wasn't safe there, either. At least here, he has no fear of being on the floor."

"I want him to be safe." She allowed him to wrap his arms around her, rubbing her back.

"He _is_ safe, Olivia."

She buried her face in his chest, finally allowing the tears to fall. They stayed that way until Alexander, bored with his toys, came to stand by them, pulling at his father's toga until Fitz fixated him with his attention.

"Papa," the young prince inquired, "Is my mom okay?"

Slowly, Olivia pushed herself from Fitz's chest, wiping at the now dried tear stains on her face, and disentangled herself from the man before her. Bending to wrap her arms around her son, she stood with the boy cradled against her.

"Your mom is okay," Fitz offered, patting the boy's head.

"I don't want to leave him," Olivia mumbled, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"He'll sleep in our room tonight," Fitz decided.

"You're late," Aurelia called to her husband, her hands continuing to work on Mellie's hair.

"I've just come from Fitz's." Jake crossed his arms, edging into the room.

"Oh? He hasn't had you over in some time," Mellie remarked, grimacing when Aurelia pulled slightly at her hair. It was a not so subtle warning to watch her tongue - Mellie had a remarkable way of picking fights with Jake.

"Only because Her Majesty has requested they spend more time together. As a family."

Aurelia's sharp tug on Mellie's hair was enough to keep the brunette from uttering any retort she had. Instead, she remained quiet, watching as Jake grabbed the flagon on the table nearest the women, pouring a glass and raising it to his lips before seeming to have changed his mind. Lowering the glass, he eyed the dark liquid, raising it to his nose and sniffing.

"It's not poisoned," Aurelia scoffed, "Mellie brought it in earlier. She opened the flagon herself."

"Did she now?" Jake pondered, thrusting the glass in her direction, "Drink."

"Really, Jake?" Aurelia wondered as Mellie rolled her eyes:

"You're being ridiculous." Still, Mellie grasped the glass and took a quick swig before passing it back to Jake.

"What has gotten into you?" Aurelia questioned as Jake finally sipped at the wine himself.

"Someone attempted to poison His Highness today."

"What?" Aurelia gasped, dropping Mellie's half-braided hair.

"Luckily, Fitz employs a number of tasters. Whomever did it, was either too stupid to know that," Jake turned a hard, accusatory stare to Mellie, "Or intended to send a message."

"And now you accuse me."

"Where did you disappear to this evening, Mellie?"

"I visited my seamstress for new gowns. I'm banned from _my_ home, remember?"

Jake shook his head, placing the glass by the flagon once more, "For the time being, you will be confined to this home. At least until I'm satisfied that you aren't the cause of any… _wrong_ doings."

"He looks so peaceful when he sleeps." Fitz crept up behind Olivia, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. Alexander laid upon their bed, wrapped in the bed linens and snoring slightly.

"I haven't allowed him to share a bed with me since he was a babe," Olivia whispered, tilting her head, "Every time he had a nightmare and begged, I would remind him that princes have no fears and send him back to his room. Now here I am, ordering him to share my bed because _I_ am afraid."

"You're not a prince, my queen," Fitz stated, turning his head to place a kiss on her neck.

"It's selfish."

"It's what mothers do," Fitz reminded her. They stood like that, content to watch Alexander sleep, until the little boy rolled over and sleepily mumbled:

"Stop watching me."

Chuckling, Fitz straightened and grasped Olivia's hand, leading her to his balcony. The cool night air caused her to shiver and seek the warmth of Fitz's embrace as they reclined on the ivory settee. Fitz traced circles on her arm, pondering how to cheer her up when, with a smile, he decided to share the agreement he had finally reached with the Senate.

"The Senate agreed to grant my divorce."

"And?" He tried not to chuckle at the eagerness of her tone and the bright shine of her eyes as she slowly sat up, placing a hand on his chest and turning her attention on him.

"With time, I believe they will be quite amicable to the idea of our marriage. Until then, there is nothing stopping a marriage in Egypt."

"But it won't be recognised here."

"No. It will not."

"You want me to make you my consort and here our marriage would not be accepted."

"Olivia, it takes time. Rome is not as Egypt is. There is no absolute power."

"It is foolish."

"I know and, given time, I hope to help the Senate and people of Rome see that as well."

"As always, time _and_ your Senate are our enemies,"

"At least we've finally slain the enemy of distance," he smirked, pulling her to him for a kiss.


End file.
